Autumn Opus

The harvest moon abates and fades away

another summer drawing to a close

as autumn slowly steals the longer day

we cede to darkened curfew now imposed

           

Just tiny specks on tilted globe we spin,

the seasons blend into a muted haze;

old stories long remembered now rescind,

while Fortune calls the shots and sets the pace

With season’s change, I feel a quickening,

I wonder, then, if you might feel it too—

the song comes carried on October’s wing

as once again her promise is renewed.

   Another year, another note transposed

   to amplify this opus we compose

©  Ginny Brannan 2016

**Image taken by Kyra Lija Ferrigan Brown 9/19/16. View from our street at sunset.

Statute of Limitations

How long can such corrosion last

that wears and tears down to the soul

to eat away the waking hours…

by now it seems it should have passed

its half-lives clinging, lingering on.

Cruel entity that gained control

to augment into monstrous thing—

where anger nourishes the hate

it manifests, exacting toll;

malignancy that won’t abscond.

                  I heard the words and felt the sting,

                  your verbal dagger bruised the bone;

                  no salve was offered to appease—

                  accelerating to the brink

                  where loathing and resentment spawned.

And thus the seeds of scorn were sown

to root and grow for seven years

till animus has run its course…

Now comes a calling to atone

will peace be found in my response?

Too long the anger has adhered

to scourge and scar, insult, cajole;

to mar the surface to the bone.

The acid cuts through my veneer;

yet in its tenure, I have grown.

                  The time has come to cede control:

                  once more I morph, becoming whole.

©  Ginny Brannan 2016